


When You Fall Like a Statue (I'm Gonna Be There to Catch You)

by roaroftheninth



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Liam/Louis if you squint, OT5, Phobias, Take Me Home Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roaroftheninth/pseuds/roaroftheninth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s reassuring that there will always be Liam to metaphorically get up in the night with a baseball bat to check on the creak in the downstairs floorboards, while the rest of them cower on the landing above. They all sort of count on it, the way they count on Niall to put everyone in a good mood, or Louis to fight their battles (on the internet, in the press, with management).</p>
<p>That’s why it throws their universe so totally out of alignment when the system breaks down."</p>
<p>Or: Liam's afraid of fire, and he never used to be afraid of anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Fall Like a Statue (I'm Gonna Be There to Catch You)

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this is based on recent events. I read a prompt for this on Tumblr a few days ago from the lovely [percussion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/percussion/pseuds/percussion), whom I did not know had prompted it but who found this anyway!
> 
> Otherwise, this was just an excuse for me to give myself the Liam-centric ot5 warm-and-fuzzies.

Liam’s got no fear, is kind of the thing.

 

If they’ve got to go into a darkened area, Harry and Niall will stumble into each other going _‘oooooh’_ and laughing at each other’s ghost noises while Zayn rolls his eyes affectionately, but Liam will gallantly go in first, every time, while Louis follows behind cheerfully reminding him that _this is how horror films start._

 

Even the fans have heard the story of Liam wandering around outside to try and save the ‘cow-man’, which all of the boys think is uproariously funny _now_ , even though at the time it wasn't so much funny as it was absolutely, pants-shittingly terrifying. Louis had said, with a bit of an edge in his voice, _what an idiot, he’ll be the first boybander in history to be serial murdered_ , prompting Zayn to follow Liam outside with that stupid homemade torch because _what an idiot_ is Tommo-ese for _I’m worried_ , something they were all picking up on even then.

 

Even Liam, who is self-effacing enough that he would admit, quite openly, if he were afraid of dogs or elevators or whatever else, only ever says he’s afraid of spoons. And while that might be legitimate – okay, he’s got a phobia about using previously used eating utensils, why not – it’s not like he runs screaming from cutlery drawers or goes into paroxysms of real fear when a young fan thrusts a spoon at him as a joke.

 

He’s just the sort to say, _it’s all right lads, I’ll go first_ , no matter what it is, and they’ve all gotten used to it. Keep-Calm-and-Carry-On Liam is too sensible to be afraid of silly things, to worry about heights or water or anything else that could kill you but probably won’t, to believe that there’s anything hiding out there in the dark.

 

It’s reassuring that there will always be Liam to metaphorically get up in the night with a baseball bat to check on the creak in the downstairs floorboards, while the rest of them cower on the landing above. They all sort of count on it, the way they count on Niall to put everyone in a good mood, or Louis to fight their battles (on the internet, in the press, with management).

 

That’s why it throws their universe so totally out of alignment when the system breaks down.

 

It’s when they’re gearing up for a show that it happens; it’s the first show after the fire, which occurs to no one, somehow. They all talk to Liam all the time, of course, had accepted his _yeah, yeah, I’m good, it’s Andy who’s in bad shape_ at face value (because Liam has no fear but he also doesn’t lie unless there are extenuating circumstances – _no, I’m absolutely sure I didn’t see Louis come by with a stolen fruit basket_ – so why not believe him?). He seems all right, at any rate, chasing Niall around the venue and competing with Louis to see how many grapes they can huck at Harry and get lodged in his hair before he notices.

 

(Six, as it turns out. Harry isn’t terribly observant, although at one point he does tip his head back to squint up at the ceiling as though it may possibly be leaking, causing all of the grapes to fall out and roll across the floor. Louis almost asphyxiates laughing.)

 

It’s the same vocal warm-up/rehearsal that they usually do. They’re sitting on the edge of the stage jostling and teasing each other when it’s decided that they’re going to get up and run blocking for BSE, mostly because they’re being irritating and there’s some faint hope that if they’re running around they’ll expend some of that energy.

 

(“For the love of – !  _Gentlemen._ I understand that Niall is hilarious, but _please try_ to remember to come in on cue.”)

 

The stage crew isn’t one hundred per cent excited about that because they’re still getting set up, but it is what it is, and Zayn is making ludicrous come-hither faces at Louis while the latter pretends to swoon when the pyrotechnics guys run their first test of the fire cannons.

 

There’s an immediate discordant sound to _danced all night_ , and Niall breaks off first, confused, followed by Louis and then Zayn, because occasionally one of them is a little off but it’s rarely like _that_.

 

“Did someone stop?” Louis asks, glancing around. “Liam, did you – ”

 

“And Harry,” Niall puts in, and then they all locate Liam and Harry simultaneously and freeze.

 

Harry is regaining his feet, Liam’s hand still fisted in the back of his shirt. It looks like Liam grabbed him and pulled _hard_ ; Harry, taken unawares, lost his balance and went down.

 

Liam is _ashen._

 

“I’m sorry,” he’s mumbling to Harry. “I’m sorry, I just – ”

 

He abruptly lets go of Harry’s t-shirt and steps away, dragging both hands over his face. Harry looks confused.

 

“Did we get too close to you lads with the flames?” one of the tech guys calls. Zayn very suddenly looks concerned, and a little ill.

 

“Oh, babe,” he says, sounding crestfallen.

 

Something in Zayn’s voice makes realization dawn on the rest of their faces, and there’s a split second while the weight of it settles over the group before Harry drags Liam into a hug without warning. Liam stumbles a little at the sudden weight – Harry doesn’t just put his arms around people, he’s a full-body hugger – but he makes no move to pull away.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Liam’s still mumbling, into Harry’s shoulder. “Didn’t meant to knock you down, I just – when you’ve already – ”

 

_When you’ve already seen one of your mates on fire_ , he doesn’t say.

 

Harry gets him at arms’ length, cupping Liam’s face in both hands even though Liam won’t look at him. “I’m not angry,” he says. “Liam, stop apologizing. Stop.”

 

Liam presses his lips together, like he has to physically swallow the words to stop them from coming out.

 

“Nothing to see here, he’s fine,” Louis says, sounding a little cross, and the way the sound of low voices and people moving around fills the room again makes it very clear to Liam that _everyone_ saw him flinch away from the flames, Harry in tow. He wants to cry.

 

Zayn slides an arm around his waist. His hand is warm, steadying, on Liam’s hip. “Come on. Come. Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

 

“I don’t need to,” Liam says in a rush. “I don’t, I’m fine, I promise – this is _embarrassing –_ ”

 

“We’re taking a break because Niall’s wet himself,” Louis announces loudly.

 

“Less embarrassing now?” Niall asks, sounding unperturbed.

 

They seem to have crowded around him when Liam wasn’t paying attention.

 

“I don’t need to take a break,” Liam says again, weakly, but that’s not going to be any kind of effective defense against the combined willpower of his four bandmates. Zayn just presses a kiss to his temple and they collectively push, pull, and crowd Liam offstage and into one of the small, unused dressing rooms. Louis closes the door. The sound of their puzzled assistant tour manager calling after them prompts Niall to mutter, “I’ll go,” and slip out again, presumably to reassure everyone that the band hasn't disappeared and no one's ill.

 

“Right,” Louis says, turning to the others. Louis solves problems (when he's not causing them). He can sort this. “The fire’s going to be a problem.”

 

“The fire’s _not_ going to be a problem,” Liam says firmly, but undermines himself with the tiny tremor in his voice. “I was just startled, is all.”

 

There’s no furniture in this dressing room; it looks like it’s normally used by some kind of sports team, so no one sits. Zayn’s got both arms wrapped around Liam from behind, chin resting on Liam's shoulder, and Harry’s leaning into his other side, hand laced through Liam’s and holding on tight. They have become three boys melted together, a unit of one.

 

“I’ll go out there and tell them no pyrotechnics,” Louis decides, pacing, and he sounds – angry? Like the tech team should have known (when even Liam’s boys didn’t know – and maybe that’s what Louis' actually upset about, although with Louis it’s always hurricane season and you kind of just hold on rather than trying to understand).

 

“ _No_ ,” Liam says, his voice rising. His grip on Harry’s hand is white-knuckled. “There’s pyrotechnics in the show, they have a job to do, it’s _fine._ ”

 

“Lou,” Harry warns quietly, his other hand sliding up to squeeze Liam’s shoulder and settle lightly on the back of his neck, soothing.

 

Louis barely spares a glance for Harry. “Well, good for me then that I care less about their jobs than I do about you,” he says, with that challenging note he gets whenever he's told he can't do something.

 

“I’m _fine!_ ” Liam nearly shouts. “Can I just have _one second –_ ” He tears his hand away from Harry’s and presses his palms over his eyes. A shudder runs through him as he tries to take a deep breath.

 

“S’okay,” Zayn murmurs. “Got you. Breathe, babe.”

 

There’s the sound of footsteps, and then someone’s hands are tugging at Liam’s wrists, moving his hands away from his face. Liam knows it’s Louis before he even opens his eyes. Louis doesn’t let go of his wrists, holding them without seeming to realize that he’s doing it in the space between their bodies, or maybe he doesn’t let go because it grounds him.

 

It has the odd effect of grounding Liam.

 

“It’s just,” Louis begins; he ducks his head, shaking it, and tries again. His voice has gone suddenly very quiet. “It’s just that you’re not afraid of anything, yeah?”

 

He says it like he’s only just sorted that now, the way you don’t recognize a fundamental truth in your life until it alters somehow and the world tilts on its axis.

 

“Well,” Liam replies dully, “I am now.”

 

Louis drops his head forward, forehead knocking gently against Liam’s as it comes to rest there. Liam closes his eyes and breathes out slowly through his nose. They stand there like that for a moment or two, foreheads pressed together.

 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about that,” Louis says finally, quietly. “All right?”

 

Liam swallows and nods. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. Freeing one of his wrists from Louis’ grip, he reaches out blindly and finds Harry, fingertips pressing into his side as he pulls him closer. Harry comes willingly, and the four of them huddle together. Liam is the steadying presence at the center of their collective universe, the gravity; now it’s their turn to steady him.

 

The sound of a door opening and closing softly doesn’t cause anyone to stir, and a moment later Louis shifts to let Niall sling an arm around Zayn’s neck and Louis’, smacking a kiss onto Liam’s ear.

 

“So I took one for the team and actually weed myself,” Niall says into the ensuing silence.

 

“ _Niall.”_ Louis takes a hasty step back from where Niall’s shorts are flush against his hip.

 

“Just kidding,” Niall sings out. When Louis warily steps back in, Niall adds with a cheeky grin, “Maybe.”

 

Liam snorts a laugh.

 

Which, really, is mission accomplished.

 

“Can we go back out?” Liam asks, tentatively, as the group slowly starts to loosen up and spread out. “We ought to finish rehearsing.”

 

Zayn brushes a hand across the back of his head fondly; _that_ sounds like Liam.

 

“No,” Louis decides. “No, I have a better idea. We’re going to steal golf buggies and be absolute menaces until show time.”

 

“So you mean, basically, what we do every night,” Niall clarifies.

 

“Yes, but with _flair_ ,” Louis emphasizes, with an expansive hand gesture.

 

“Oh, right, because I usually steal golf carts like a total classless walnut.”

 

Harry almost chokes on a laugh.

 

Later, before the show, when they’re all in their huddle, Zayn nudges Liam gently.

 

“You going to be all right out there?”

 

“Yeah,” Liam nods. “Yeah, I know the timing, I’ll be all right if there aren’t any surprises.”

 

“You’ve got this,” Niall says, offering up a fist-bump.

 

“We’ve all got this,” Louis says firmly. “Ready?”

 

They smash it, as usual. And out there under the blinding stage lights, surrounded by a thick curtain of sound and his lads (ruffling his hair and squeezing his shoulder and double-checking that he's okay, always), Liam catches glimpses of fire out of the corner of his eyes and almost, almost forgets to be afraid.


End file.
